In Grey
by Tsath
Summary: A Sith Apprentice struggles against both darkness and light, and walks the path of an exile. Striving to make the Empire a better place, she serves from the shadows and finds herself surrounded by strange friends, powerful enemies, and deadly politics.
1. Note from the Author

_Tsath_| **In Grey**

_A Note From The Author_

**H**ey! Please take the time to read this quick note from me before you go ahead and read the prologue for _In Grey_. I've really spent a lot of time on this, and I would really hope that you would come back and read updates, because I update at least once a week, guaranteed on Sunday. I'm a pretty erratic person, so you may find two or three updates –before- Sunday.

When you read _In Grey_ there are three prime things I would BEG to have you remember. The first is please, please, please, oh- please give chapters reviews! See that? That was my begging. Reviewing chapters is how I know which ones are written better than others, which ones may be lacking, and such. The second thing I want you to keep in mind is, although I like feedback and it helps to improve my writing, it is written for your enjoyment. So enjoy every little word that I have crafted for your reading pleasure.

The last and final thing is that _In Grey_ is meant for a somewhat mature audience, and can be a bit graphic at times. Gruesome and sexual scenes lurk within; however chapters containing things I view as "inappropriate" to the more gentle readers will be marked with a warning before the chapter. Please enjoy _In Grey_, a _Star Wars_ fanfic taking place slightly before _The Old Republic_.

Oh, one last little smidget! Please excuse the typos, I usually end up proofreading chapters before bed, so I may skip over some things on accident. Thank you!

_Happy Reading!_


	2. Prologue

_Tsath_| **In Grey**

**I**t was dark. A certain darkness that befouled the land also plagued her heart. The scent of sweet summer spice was heavy on the wind, and as much as one could lose themselves in its purity, there were other scents on the wind... Cinders. Smoke. Ashes. Death. The weeping woman stood from her kneeled stance. The market was so much emptier in the destruction. She wiped the tears from her eyes, her face concealed by her pitch-black robe. She pondered how many people lost their lives for the greater good.

"My lord!" Two soldiers in black heavy armor, made of duraplate, with red hexagons painted on their shoulders walked up to the cloaked figure. Their armor flashed when the fires snapped, the flames in the night burned loud for all to see. She turned her head to them, her hood covering her face. "Yes, Sergeant?" She spoke in a broken manner, like burning sweet-spice on the wind.

"My lord, we've finished securing the Market District. We're currently breaching the Capital Spire, but the enemy reinforcements are closing in on us. What are your orders?" The soldier in black geometric armor spoke. The woman kept her head low, spending only a moment to ponder the situation. "Sergeant, tell the Captain to divert his forces to my position. Let the General assault the Spire, but we need to delay those reinforcements." The woman spoke with calculation, and experience, a form of cold confidence warded her from uncertainty.

"Yes, my lord! For the Empire!" The Sergeant saluted, dashing off in the ruin of the market. "For the Empire..." The woman muttered to herself, reassuringly. She then looked about the ruin, and her heart sank. How much destruction would the innocent endure for this petty war? She looked down to see a small stuffed doll, half buried by charcoal and fractured metal. She leaned over, dusting off the debris from the child's toy and picked it up, observing it.

The small doll was of a boy, the home-made fabric was knitted together by a dead mother, for a child that now joined her in the force. The toy somehow gave the woman comfort, but she shook her head. She rejected it, reluctantly returning it to the debris, and burying it. After doing so, she heard the discharge of a stealth field, and the cock of a rifle.

"STOP. Don't-"The woman did not think- she moved like a shadow, drawing a metal hilt to a sword, but then a long blade of golden light suddenly reached out from the hilt. It hissed as the energy unsheathed itself, and it hummed as it flew through the air. The air around the blade snapped as it tore the woman's assailant in half, easily slicing through the white armor. The stubs of the man fell to the ground, his wounds instantly cauterized by the heat of the blade.

The woman looked about to see she was surrounded by five other figures. She merely held onto her blade, for in her training, the weak made the first move, but the strong made the first kill... And the first kill was hers. Four of the men wore suits of white armor, slick and round; their helmets had thin black visors. The folds of the helmet created a face- a stern face that was immune to fear and could dispense justice without hesitation.

The fifth was a large man in a humble brown robe, though bits of armor shown through the robe itself. The woman kept calm, in control of her rising anger, but mostly her fear. These were no ordinary enemies.

"Master Jedi, your orders?" One of the soldiers spoke, all of their rifles trained on the woman's form.

"Fire only if she moves." The man's voice was deep, and was chiselled with many years of wisdom. He directed his attention to the woman, folding his armoured gauntlets inside of his sleeves. "Unnamed Sith, we give you this one opportunity to surrender. As you can see, you are surrounded by proud members of the Republic Vanguard."

The woman smiled inside, congratulating her enemies on moving faster than anticipated. Making only a movement to press the switch on her weapon, the sword whined as the golden blade dissipated back into its hilt. She held out her hand, offering the blade. She said not a word, and not a single note of expression graced her hooded face.

One of the soldiers moved slowly, his rifle still aimed at her. He cautiously grabbed at her weapon, and then stepped back into formation. The Jedi tilted his head. How very unusual for a Sith to surrender. "Please, remove your hood."

The woman did as she was asked, slowly revealing two thin arms wrapped in black cloth, two gloved hands pulling down her hood. She was exotic, her tan skin contrasted greatly to her short, bright blonde hair. Her yellow eyes matched those of her weapon, and her skin was decorated with many curved and flowing black tattoos. But on her forehead were small, rounded horns, more of the small pieces of bone pokes through her short hair. Her golden eyes glanced around the soldiers. She could sense some of their fear that she was an alien, a Zabrak.

The Jedi was shocked, and the woman smiled. This was her chance. Her arm still extended, she flicked her wrist, and the beam of the sword hissed once again as it unsheathed itself straight through the chest of the soldier. Out of instinct, she immediately ducked; the shot from one of the soldiers flew over her, immediately striking the soldier across from him. She then flung her arm around, her blade flying at the soldier behind her. He had not moved out of fear.

The blade hummed through the air, slicing the gun of the only soldier who shot, and she leapt, catching her sword and plunging it with a hiss into the scared soldier's head. The last man drew his sidearm pistol, firing it, but with another hiss, a second blade leapt out of the bottom of the weapon, reflecting the shot into the ground. She threw the double-bladed weapon, tearing the last man apart. The weapon curved, spinning about, flying back to its master. The Sith caught her weapon and sheathed it, looking at the Jedi. The pause between them was brief.

"You would not even move to defend your own men?" The woman asked, her face showing no emotion.

"Their fate was not in my hands. Even if I tried they would have still been felled." The Jedi shook his head. "And if I had tried to attack you myself, they would've only gotten in the way."

The Zabrak's face twisted in anger. She cried, "How could you throw their lives away? You sicken me, Ordellus!" The Jedi moved his armoured hands and pulled down his own hood, revealing a gruff older man with fiery red hair, salted with age, and jaded green eyes. He spoke unflinchingly, "Their deaths are a tragedy to be mourned later. At least they are at peace, and with the force."

The Sith gritted her teeth. "You are a FOOL! There is always a better way!" The old Jedi shook his head, "And your Empire is the better way? You still have much to learn, my padawan. Come, Qa'za. Let us help these poor people." Ordellus extended his hand to the girl.

"I am not your padawan, 'Master' Ordellus!" Qa'za drew her double-bladed weapon, holding onto it with both hands, fiercely. "I am the first apprentice to the mighty Lord Baedya. You are a fool, and so is the Jedi Order!" Ordellus shook his head, drawing a blade of green light. "I am disappointed in you... But I would be even more so if this 'Lord Baedya' has not taught you anything. Show me the might of this so called 'better way.' Show me you sith actually have any strength."

Qa'za bared her teeth, but suddenly forced herself to calm. She saw what her former master was doing, but she was in control. He would not spark anger from her, for that is a weak and uncontrollable emotion. Qa'za kept her emotions in check. Emotions were tools to her, not a crutch to like the other Sith, nor taboo like the Jedi Order.

Ordellus smiled as he saw Qa'za relax. While ordinarily Sith embraced their anger, she had swallowed it down. It caught him off-guard, but it also gave him hope that perhaps she could still be saved. In reality, her display of skill with the Vanguard impressed him, and he was uncertain if he would be able to win this battle.

Qa'za struck while the Jedi was in thought, dashing with incredible speed towards Ordellus. Caught off guard, he immediately parried her strike, but he was not prepared for her full onslaught. She followed through the attack, pushing his blade aside and swiping in with the other side of her own weapon, attempting to slice through his chest. The tip of the golden blade charring his hair, Ordellus ducked under her strike. Attempting to counter-attack, he spun around and brought his blade under her arm.

But he was too slow, his strike completely missing as she vaulted over him. She held the blade with a firm, but flexible grasp, waiting for Ordellus. He stood, laxly looking at her posture. "Your mastery with the lightsaber has grown. I can say that so far I'm impressed with your flexibility." Ordellus took a step forwards, and she reacted quickly. Perhaps too quickly.

Ordellus cried out as he made a head-on assault, charging at her with his emerald lightsaber. She slashed at his legs quickly, but he leapt, bringing the full strength of his blade down upon her. She was in no position to dodge, he was too close. Qa'za used the utility of her blade, barely blocking the overpowering strike. The blades of energy both let out a screech as they collided, sparks of energy flying out of the impact. Qa'za cart wheeled around her former master. If she had not used the second blade to divert most of the impact into the ground, she might have simply been crushed under Ordellus' sheer strength.

He now had her where he wanted her. Spinning around, Ordellus spiralled into the air, and then slammed the ground, the force erupting out of the impact like an explosion. Qa'za managed to leap away, but was not entirely unaffected. She flew a few meters back, landing on her stomach. She was dazed, her head spun about as she slowly reached for her weapon that had sheathed itself in its master's absence. She then heard the shout of Ordellus, and she knew that she had to move.

Attempting to clear her head, Qa'za reached out, pulling her blade to her. The golden lights sprung out of the hilts, and Qa'za rolled away just in time to see the old Jedi land, impaling and shattering the earth beneath her former location. Ordellus was relentless, however, and just as Qa'za got her footing, he was upon her again. He swung his blade around his shoulders, striking her. She lifted her lightsaber, but it was easily battered aside. Ordellus spun around, making the exact same attack on her undefended opposite side.

She panicked. He must much too strong her to block his attacks, but the small bit of fear was just what she needed. In a second, Qa'za spun her weapon around, blocking Ordellus' attack. She gritted her teeth, and then thrust forth a hand, feeling the force erupt from her arm like a gust from a hurricane. The blast knocked Ordellus back and gave Qa'za the advantage she so desired. She threw her weapon at him, the spinning blade hummed as it flew towards Ordellus as she guided it with the force. The Jedi caught his stance as he was pushed backwards, noticing the flying blade.

Qa'za was very clever, and had realized that his strength far outweighed her own. Ordellus watched the blade spin at him and knew that if he timed his strike perfectly, he would be able to slice the blade and disarm Qa'za. He waited for the perfect moment to attack; his blade flying between the two beams of deadly gold, but it was for naught. Ordellus noticed a large piece for debris, a building strut, flying at him. Qa'za lifted and threw the object with all of her might in the force.

Ordellus changed tactics, pushing the blade away with his own power; he sliced the giant strut in half with his saber, his massive strength splitting it in two before it crushed him. Yet, Qa'za still struck a blow. Her sword had sliced cleanly through Ordellus' robe, and through his heavy armor. Though his armor was rended, it had still saved him his arm. "Well played, Qa'za. I can again say I'm impressed." Ordellus stretched his shoulder.

Qa'za's face was cold. "Don't try to hide the pain, 'Master.' I can feel it in you... Your molten armor." She was correct. Ordellus' melted armor was seeping down the cut, pouring directly onto his exposed skin. The pain was immense, but bearable. Ordellus smiled. "Your keen observation of pain always was useful in training. You could've made for an excellent healer." Qa'za caught her flying lightsaber, brandishing it.

"Your ideas are flawed, Jedi! The Republic is just as unjust as the Empire! Your order is just as wrong as the Sith!" Qa'za shouted at Ordellus. He shook his head. "Then tell me, why join them? What makes the Empire so correct?" Qa'za scowled. "It's simple. How can you not see it? The Republic boasts freedom and democracy, but their petty senators all squabble about rubbish while the refugees and the poor suffer!"

"They would suffer just as so in the Empire, if not worse. Slavery or death would await them." Ordellus took a step forward.  
>"The Empire's rule is absolute. It is unified as one empire! There is one voice, and total peace. There is not thousands of factions, squabbling for political power or a thousand rebellions from denied voices!" Qa'za shouted as she walked towards Ordellus.<br>"The Republic will bring the peace in time. The Empire rules through fear and power, those who are afraid and powerless are crushed and used like insects. The Republic is right, Qa'za, and you are Jedi, not Sith. You belong with us!" He stood his ground, clutching his weapon tighter.

"And you belong on a pyre!" Qa'za shouted as she spun around, twirling her weapon. It hummed as it parted the air, and she struck with one end of the weapon quickly, juking to the side of Ordellus. He reacted as fast as he could, parrying the first attack, but was forced into a defensive position, raising his blade over his shoulders to cover his back as the next attack of her bladed staff inevitably struck. She then spun her blade over her head as Ordellus tried to counter-attack.

He winced as the still hot metal poured onto his shoulder, and tried to bring his weapon down upon her, but she redirected the force of his blow, and then used the other side of the weapon to slash at his ribs, finally spinning away. Heated metal and sparks leapt from the strike, but the quick blow was not powerful enough to cut through Ordellus' thick armor. Qa'za admired how well her old master moved in such thick, and equally heavy, armor.

She drew upon her inner emotions, her hatred and frustration seething beneath her skin. Qa'za's face remained calm, but a maelstrom of darkness was raging inside of her. Ordellus felt the power grow within her and his brow furrowed. She set upon him in a brutal flurry of strikes from her saberstaff, Ordellus struggling to keep up. He was trying to find true focus, blocking her attacks with grace, but then he began to notice a pattern in her form.

Their blades danced together in the night, gold and green spinning, twirling, leaping, and shimmering in the darkness. The three lights began to move faster and faster, the sparks echoing into the darkness before dying in a moment's notice. The gold danced faster and faster, bits of electricity beginning to arc away from each impact against the emerald.

And it was with that one mistake that it all ended. Ordellus had matched the speed of Qa'za's ruthless assault, but not the technique. Qa'za spun around, her strike a mere inch away from her former master's head, blocked. She spun around, her blade screaming as arcs of electricity formed. Ordellus slammed the attack away, taking a step back before making a counter attack, but Qa'za ruthlessly spun her lightsaber around, and ran the tip of her blade across her master's face, burning his eye and the lightning scorching his face.

Qa'za flashed her teeth, and moved her saber to end the Jedi as he grunted in pain, but he raised his blade to strike her- she had to block it. She moved fast. Too fast. Her blade whizzed past his as the pommel of his weapon struck with colossal force against her temple. Her head rattled, her vision flashed. She stumble backwards, and felt hot, searing pain up her arm. She screamed as she heard the hum of a lightsaber spinning and she moved her own, but felt more pain against her legs, and she fell.

Wailing in agony, the zabrak reached to touch her wounded arm, it felt very cold. She tried to move her arm, and then was horrified as her hand met her cauterized shoulder. She screamed further in pain as tears of agony and despair ran down her face. Ordellus looked down on her. She lie on the ground, crying in agony, almost like the same way he had found her. Her legs were missing, her arm severed at the shoulder. He felt as she surrendered to the pain, her body becoming a vessel of sorrow. He almost wept.

"It is a shame." He spoke as he touched a hand to his burnt out eye. "You fought well, Qa'za. May the force be with you." He shook his head, and walked towards the explosions in the distance, perhaps not being able to bear the thought of finishing her.

A man dressed in a black longcoat stepped out of his perch in the shadows, walking over to her. Qa'za noticed him, looking up at him with hurt, desperate eyes. She did not know him.

"Please..." She stammered out between quivers of pain. "Please help me..." There was something about a woman in need he always found appealing, but he turned his head away, pulling out his communicator. He made the call he had to.

"Lord Baedya." The mysterious man spoke, the holographic appearance of an aging woman with white hair appearing before him.

"Ah, Agent Seventeen. How fairs my young apprentice?" She spoke cheerfully, her energy surpassing her age. The agent looked down at Qa'za, she watched Baedya and closed her eyes. The implants in his ears picked up her words as she inaudibly whispered them. It was a prayer. He looked back at Baedya."She is... debilitated." Baedya raised her brow. "Oh?"

He activated a module on his communicator, then scanned Qa'za. Baedya merely shook her head. "Alas, another apprentice gone to waste... Do what you see fit with her, Agent Seventeen. She is no longer my responsibility." The small image of Baedya faded. The man looked down at the shattered woman and sighed to himself. Imperial Intelligence. Always cleaning up the mess.

_To be continued…_


	3. I: Introductions

_Tsath_| **In Grey**

"**B**artender." The hooded woman spoke. The fat Twi'lek turned around, his long head-tails wrapped around his neck and his blue skin shining even more in the neon lights of the bar. The woman sat in the dense population of the establishment, the scent of beverages from half the galaxy and more filled the air. The buzz of conversation and the trill of laughter filled her ears. She sat encased within her black robe, only her nose and tattooed lips showed in the flamboyant lights.

"Oh, and what can I get for you, sweetheart?" The repulsive man spoke, leaning on the counter. "A glass of Numodian Tea." The woman's lips barely moved, flashing all different shades of neon as the lights flickered and danced around the bar. The obnoxious music fitted the place as well, an up-beat song that made a mockery of life. The fat one laughed. "Sorry, lady, we only carry poison."

"Processed water then, hm?" She lifted her head to look at the miserable thing that was attending to her, a single yellow eye peeking out from under her hood. She felt sorry for the thing, fetching drinks was obviously a physical chore to this one. His sweat gleamed in the light of the bar and he laughed again. "Only poison, lady."

She sighed as he began to talk to her. "Look, if you want to get a more mild drink I'm sure they serve those at a restaurant a couple clicks over. Place is called-" With a wave of her tan hand the bartender's face went blank and he changed the topic, speaking absent-mindedly, "Sure thing... Glass of water... Just for you..." The fat one walked into the back room.

"Making friends, are we?" A very refined voice spoke, an accent that strongly spoke of Imperial citizenry. A tall, lean man sat in the empty seat beside the hooded woman. He was dressed in a black longcoat, his boots making a soft click when he strode across the room. He turned to her, a small cap seated upon his head that made identifying him difficult. "And here I was thinking Sith executed bartenders for not serving them the right drink."

"They also execute smart-mouthed Imperials." The woman spoke, her words were soft, but had a subtle bite to them. They drifted in the air like burning sweet-spice. "Besides, Rikter," she continued as the fat bartender returned, placing a delicate glass of water in front of her. "I'm not a Sith anymore." The bartender sat dumbly for a moment before breaking his stupor and hustling over to serve another patron.

The Imperial chuckled. "Looks like you're developing a smidge of humor. I think my charm is rubbing off on you." The woman unveiled a metal hand from her cloak, grabbing the drink. Millions of small pieces of metal silently adjusted and moved, perfectly mimicking the movements of a real arm and a real hand. She stared at her metal hand as it grasped the drink for a moment, then raised it to her lips and took a small sip. Rikter watched her eyes under her hood, and watched them as they scanned over her replaced limb. She could've hid it beneath sleeve and glove, but she didn't.

"Refined Kortosis Cybernetic Prosthetics. Those cost quite the small fortune. More then any arm and two legs should, Qa'za. No lightsaber or blaster should remove them as easily next time." He truly admired the machinery that she bore, even the slightest muscle that she moved in her arm showed as small pistons and other unknown devices all worked together to perfectly mimic the lost arm.

Qa'za looked over at him and caught him staring at her arm. "It also attracts much unwanted attention. Not very appealing for your line of work, Rikter." He flashed a smile, his fine black moustache and single patch of hair on his chin curved with his mouth. "Ah, a shame, isn't it? Still doesn't mean I can't admire one of the finest pieces of technology this side of the galaxy." Qa'za shook her hooded head.

"You're still staring at my arm." She drank again, this time consuming the rest of the glass of water. "My prosthetic arm. That's almost as bad as staring at an ugnaught." Rikter let out a single laugh, his blue eyes and suave hair flashed in the lights. "I see your point. Ugly little bastards, aren't they?" Qa'za cast a sideways glance as she set her glass down. "Not as ugly as you after two mugs of Alderaanian Ale." Rikter gave her a look of shock as the very tips of her mouth curved into a smile.

"Qa'za! You wound me! And I thought my deadly good-looks were about to win that dark heart of yours." She shook her head as her small smile grew larger. She turned to him and her tone became serious. "Enough of our introductions. Do you have the information we need?" Rikter leaned back and gave her a seductive grin. "Indeed I do. Glad to see you're always eager." Qa'za nodded. Rikter continued.

"Our target is a Mirialan. You know them. Humanoid, green skin, geometric tattoos. Calls himself 'Vudo Phess.'" Rikter gestured with his hand, drawing small diamonds in the air over his face.

"Not a very Mirialan name is it?" Qa'za inquired.  
>"No it isn't, but it's just an alias. Can't get any other tags on this man. He's a freelance data-slicer, though he works for the Republic on most of his deals."<br>"Location?" She remained calm, for honestly cared little about the other details on the target.  
>"Red Light District. I got him tagged, seems like he's hanging around this one private club called 'Blacklight.'"<br>Qa'za merely nodded. "We better get moving." She stood up and made her way through the sea of tables, patrons, and waiters.  
>Rikter raised his brow and turned. "Hey! I didn't even order anything!"<br>"Maybe I'll take off the cloak later.."  
>Rikter scowled for a moment before deciding that it was more than a fair trade. He stood and followed her.<p>

Qa'za opened the door of the cantina to immediately have her ears assaulted by the same drone of crowds, and the music of speeders as they whizzed by overhead. The flashing and extravagant lights of the interior she came from were not replaced, but surpassed. Holographic ads and neon signs were just as plentiful as stars in the sky. Rikter followed her out into the bustling plaza and smiled as he experienced the same thing.

"Nar Shaddaa. What I never get over is the smell." Rikter lowered his head the visor of his cap blocked sight of his eyes. "I can't decide if it's the industries' pollution that smells worse or if it's the mixed company of so many aliens." He then smiled a cynic's smile. Qa'za knew that Rikter was a sardonic man, and also a staunch Imperial. He may have saved her life by ordering and operating her prosthetic limbs, but in her eyes that hardly made up for his racism.

"I hope you remember the Sith were once aliens... and that I'm iridonian." Qa'za turned to him, making sure that he knew his crime. Rikter chuckled, meeting her gaze with a silvertongue's gaze. "Of course I know you're zabrak, and I know the Pureblood Sith are still in power. I'm just saying it's these lesser races that aren't worth our time." Qa'za started to walk towards the nearest taxi and gave up in challenging the arrogant views of an Imperial.

Rikter followed her, and began to probe Qa'za. "Why would it matter to you? I'm sure they all take the same time to crush their neck or rip them apart with your lightsaber." Qa'za walked towards the edge of the plaza, the edge of it falling off into a deep drop. There was miles of buildings, platforms, and signs above them, and below them. She hailed a taxi from a nearby terminal, then turned to address Rikter's question.

"Perhaps to another sith. But it seems I must remind you- I am not sith." Qa'za spoke with a cold passion behind her words. Rikter merely smiled. "Then what are you?" He proposed a good question, and he knew it. Qa'za answered calmly, "Just an 'alien' with a lightsaber, working with an Imperial Agent." The speeder taxi arrived, a machine pilot landing beside them and opening a door. The gust of air from the speeder caused Qa'za's robe to billow, and Rikter held his black cap. "Fair enough." He replied with a respectful nod.

"Where is your destination today?" The droid pilot spoke, the words coming out metallic and fluctuating. Qa'za entered the vehicle, Rikter following in suit.  
>"Red Light District, bring us's close ta 'Blacklight' as y'can." Rikter spoke quickly, suddenly losing his accent and speaking in a slurred dialect of some outer-rim colony.<br>"Complying. Your fare today is 78 credits. Please enjoy your trip." The doors of the taxi closed as it began to hover, then join into the streams of flying vehicles that twisted and flowed through the air.

The lights and buildings around them moved by quickly, lights flashing by and other speeders hummed past their own as traffic flowed in organized weavings. Rikter reached into his coat and revealed a small sliver of metal, tipped in small lights. He leaned forwards as if he was inspecting something in the driver's window, then shoved the spike into a panel on the droid's front. It began to surge with electricity, and the taxi wavered, quickly turning to the right. Qa'za was flung over, a few strands of golden hair falling out of her hood. She caught herself against the seats and shot Rikter a displeased look. She tucked her hair back into her hood.

"What was that? I thought you knew how to handle driver droids." Rikter sat down, and pulled out a small holographic interface, making a few quick adjustments and movements to the graphics before him as the sound of two cameras in the vehicle fizzled. "Sorry, ma'm." He spoke distantly, more focused on the task at hand. "Blasted droid has a frontal panel. Not very conspicuous, but it makes forcing their controls harder. Give me a moment..." Rikter then began to open up a new interface, and started up a new task.

"Alright..." Qa'za looked at the flashing lights that Rikter moved around and interacted with. "Do you have the level schematic?" She continued as he seemed almost lost within his work. "...and... Yes. I do. I have the whole club's security systems in our hands." He made a few quick slices and pointings with the interface when a large image of the tower the club was a part of appeared. The image focused on a platform two stories above the club. Rikter began to speak quickly and seriously. "This is our drop off point, the taxi will land here in about six minutes, so let's make this fast." Qa'za nodded.

_To be continued…_


	4. II: Blacklight Shadows

_Tsath_| **In Grey**

**S**he stepped out of the speeder and waved at the driver droid as she walked towards the back entrance of Blacklight. She opened the door and nodded quickly at the large security droid, which oddly didn't move in response to her. She disregarded it, and she quickly climbed the stairs to the dancer's quarters. She waved again at the few friends she had at her job, and found her locker. She opened her bag and threw it in, taking out the revealing and intricate metal uniforms all dancers had to wear.

_How disgusting_. She thought to herself, and looked at the mirror in her locker. She was a rather attractive twi'lek, she did have that much to admit or she wouldn't have landed this job… but then again, they took pretty much anyone with the stomach for this line of work. She peeled off her normal day clothes and reluctantly put on the cold metal, her yellow skin contrasting to the black cloth that gave her a small amount of lower decency. She wrapped her lekku, or head-tails as others called them, around her neck and made her way to her small stall.

She couldn't decide if being a private dancer was a blessing or a curse, but everyone else told her she was lucky. Public dancers got pulled and touched by everyone every night, but she had to deal with one person at a time. She nodded to herself as she also considered the fact she made better tips. Making a turn down to a large hall with many curtains, she made her way to her own, the third from the front, and peels the curtain back to open the large-metal door that served for security and privacy.

Just as she input her code and slipped into the tiny stall with a large table and a circular booth around it, she was shocked to see a man inside. She was tempted to cover herself but she blushed as she closed the door and smiled. She tried to feign confidence, but she was always nervous on the job. Her boss said that it gave her charm. She pressed her back against the door and spoke to the man, stuttering.

"K-Kava kavaa jee hopa chuba?" The girl spoke in huttese, and the words came out quickly, but slow compared to fluent huttese speakers. Basic was her first language. The man looked up at her and took off his black cap. His hair was fine and elegant, combed to a smooth black wave above his brow. His face was carved and handsome, a fine moustache and sat upon his upper lip and a small patch of hair graced his firm chin. He smiled, his liquid-blue eyes seeing through her.

"Do your customers always like the poor huttese?" He joked, a refined and crisp accent made his humor sting like ice and melt like snow. The girl shook her head.

"No… I… How did you get in here?" She stammered out as she shifted herself into the side of the booth across from him.

"I've got my ways. Besides, I already payed…" His eyes slanted as if hiding secrets. He scooted over to her, his grey long-coat whispering against the fabric of the seats. The light in the stall was dim, centered above the table in the middle. She retreated to the very tip of the booth and folded her arms over herself. She hated interacting with customers, she just wanted to do the dance, get the money, and have him leave. He quirked an eyebrow and canted his head.

"Don't like the outfit? Can't say I blame you. You look like a classy girl… Such a shame you have to dress like that," He shifted himself closer to her, turning his body. "I'm sure you'd make a lot more money out of this little rat-hole and in some cleaner clothes," He leaned away from her. She smiled, suddenly feeling comfortable.

"W-well… I mean, yes. I… I…" She was stammering. Her face flushed as she looked at the table in front of her. The man scanned over her. She was stunning, her smooth yellow skin shaded in the dim light. Her tight but firm build was very easy on his eyes. He cocked an eyebrow… She certainly wasn't lacking in curves either. He smiled as he moved even closer to her, sliding a gentle hand across her bare shoulders. She turned to him and he put a finger to her lips.

"W…What's your name?" She asked, taken in by his shimmering blue eyes. He gave a gentleman's chuckle.

"I'm an Imperial Nobleman… and a Republic SIS Agent. Excuse me, m'am, if I don't say my name… He gave a grin, his words poured out slowly like fine wine. "And how did such a fine young woman like you find it in herself to work at a place like Blacklight?" He continued, moving his head closer to hers. She began to stammer nonsense again, perhaps dropping a few poorly pronounced huttese within her mumbling. Courage was never her strong point. He put his finger to her lips again and his head went to her ear, his hot breath covering it as his other hand brushed one of her lekku aside.

"Shhh… Let me do you a favor and make this easy for you…" She melted in his arms, a tiny smile coming to her lips. She felt herself sink when his smooth, gentle lips kissed her cheek, and lost herself when his hand cradled her other cheek, the same lips meeting hers in a warm exchange. He sucked tenderly on her bottom lip and she weaved her fingers into his thick, soft hair. Within seconds she couldn't help herself and thrust her tongue into his mouth. She couldn't believe she was seduced by such a handsome human, but she found it even harder to believe she was getting paid for it.

Just as she slipped her fingers onto his warm neck and he shifted himself on top of her, the door slid open. The girl's heart stopped as a cloaked figure slipped inside and sat down, two yellow eyes peering directly at her. It took a moment for the man to realize something was wrong when the little twi'lek stopped moving, and he casually turned his head to look at the intruder. He slid off the girl, much to her dissatisfaction, and draped an arm around her. She immediately looked at her lap and folded her arms over herself. The mysterious stranger spoke, her voice identifying her as a woman.

"I see you're already enjoying the perks of a job in a strip-club," Qa'za leaned forwards, putting one arm wrapped in black cloth on the table. Rikter smiled.

"You know me well. I couldn't help but be drawn in by this piece of beauty." He turned to the twi'lek, nervously fidgeting with her fingers in her lap. She knew it would be too good to be true- An attractive customer paying for her pleasure. Qa'za merely perked an eyebrow as she looked at the scantily clad girl. She shook her head and set her other arm on the table, metal hand clicking upon the metal. The girl looked up and started staring at the robotic limb. Qa'za gave a small sigh of annoyance.

"Is the place locked down?" Qa'za looked directly at Rikter, which was busy smiling at the twi'lek dancer. He shifted his eyes coyly at Qa'za.

"Of course… I always put work before pleasure," He patted the girl's shoulder reassuringly. She looked up at him then at the woman on the other side of the stall. Locked down? What did it mean? Rikter turned his head to her.

"Don't worry, sweet, I'm right here…" His worlds melted into her and she smiled. Qa'za made a noise of disgust and opened the door.

"Just be ready if I need help." She closed the door behind her, throwing a very large bag onto the booth. The girl stared at the bag for a brief second before feeling the hot sensation of the man's tongue running up her neck. She couldn't help but let a small moan escape when he spoke in her ear.  
>"Don't worry, sweet… I'm right here."<p>

Qa'za shifted her eyes around. If Rikter had done his work properly, which he usually did an exceptional job of doing, and then the security droids and cameras would be disabled. She looked down the hall and walked silently up to a large security droid and waved a hand in front of its photoreceptors, or eyes. After no response she drew a sleek pistol with an elongated barrel. She pressed her cloaked form against the wall and slid down to the door at the very end of the hall. She peaked a single eye around the corner, seeing vibrant teal and violet lights dancing and chasing each other around.

Shifting herself around the corner of the doorway like a shadow, she moved into the room. The door was located directly underneath some stairs and she found herself thinking back to the cantina. Slow music played, a low bass snaked below a slinking melody, all of it dancing on top of a dirty beat. Hundreds of cyan and purple lights spun around the room, passing over every shadow and lighting every face. There were dancers of many different races up on platforms, moving their bodies slowly to the music as customers slid credits below them.

Chatter buzzed beneath the music as Qa'za began to move through the shadows, trying to get to the other side of the room without being seen. She saw a man with three women in dancer uniforms situated all around him. She pitied them. With so much technology and so many races, she would've imagined that things like this and racism would be eliminated… Or at least suppressed. Jumping from shadow to shadow, corner to corner, Qa'za navigated the room easily moving up some stairs to the other side of the club.

She didn't worry. Rikter showed her the layout of the building and they formulated a good plan. It was an easy assassination, she didn't need Rikter's help. The place being run my mostly mechanical security, this job was child's play to her. She turned a corner, walking by four idle droids with large blaster rifles in their arms.

Making her way to the large administration room, Qa'za input the sequence to the hacked door. It slid open quickly. The room was large, decorated with extravagant furniture and décor, and she saw the large holo of a hutt on the other side of the room. Hutts were disgusting creatures, gigantic slugs whose fat bodies curved upright into a gigantic mouth and two lazy eyes, two floppy arms lying at the sides of their torso. The creature spoke in a deep, resonating voice to two men. One of the men was dressed in an expensive suit, the other in a slick vest and dirty pants.

Qa'za quickly took cover behind a couch as she peeked her head out, observing more of the scene, and perhaps the conversation. The men had their backs to her, making identifying them difficult. If possible, she wanted to end this all in one second, a perfectly timed shot to the head would mean she would be on her way home. The hutt spoke, his words shaking the room with their frequency.

{…according to plan, you say? } The hutt raised a brow, gesturing with its small arms. {Does that mean that the shipment is here?} His words were slow and booming huttese, though Qa'za imagined the creatures would have a difficult time doing anything with haste. The well-dressed man nodded, his appearance still hidden from Qa'za's position.

"Yes, mighty Hodaa," He spoke in basic and turned his head- Human. "That means our friend here Mr. Phess is going to become a wealthy member of our little group." The human smiled as the casual man turned his head… Mirialan. His green skin and geometric tattoos showed clearly in the light of the holo, his well-trimmed hair was slicked back.

"Just the money, thank you. I'm only glad this blueprint is getting into Republic hands." He nodded, smiling. This was all Qa'za needed. She leaned out from behind the couch and pulled her blaster into position. She gently squeezed the trigger when suddenly the well-dressed human looked alarmed, and tackled the mirialan. Qa'za's shot flew silently through the air, the beam of heat catching the human in the side. She cursed silently as she retreated back into cover. The hutt looked alarmed, and his image faded. Qa'za heard Vudo's voice.

"Hey- Berryk! Get through this! You've got hit by worse, a little blaster can't take you down…" There was a silence in Vudo's words. He suddenly cursed, pushing the dead man off of him and leaping behind another couch.

Qa'za clenched her teeth. She heard where her target rolled to, but her image of the room was still incomplete. Making a guess she popped her head out from behind the couch and shot instantly, only to have a hostile blaster bolt flying towards her. She ducked, the bolt flying over her head. This wasn't just a slicer, he was good with a blaster too.

"Almost took your head off, buddy," He called to Qa'za, his voice coming from the right side of the room. "Might want to be a little more careful when you decide to pop out," he taunted her. Qa'za silently moved to the right side of the couch and took a shot at one of the two couches he could be hiding behind. Another blaster bolt whizzed by her hood as she ducked. A slight miss.

"Wrong place, sugar. You're quite pretty under that hood I see," His voice suddenly came from the left side of the room. Qa'za scowled, pulling out a vibroknife. She moved invisibly between the furniture, heading to the left of the room. After a few seconds she saw the mirialan slicer look around the corner of a chair, his green eyes matching his skin tone. Vudo caught only a brief glimpse of her and was shocked.

She suddenly leapt at him, slashing with her knife. Vudo swayed out of the way, dodging the attack. She swept the blade horizontally at his stomach but he took a step backwards. He dodged two more attacks before Qa'za had him in the perfect position, and she fired a single shot of her blaster, but to her surprise, the shot flew straight at her.

In a split second, Qa'za raised her left arm, the energy of the bolt scorching the metal of her prosthetic arm. She felt the heat of the shot, but not the pain. She saw the man had pulled and ignited a blue lightsaber from his jacket almost instantly, and he gave her a humored look.

"Alright. Charade's over." He smiled as he relaxed his stance and kicked a chair away from him. "Turns out, I'm no ordinary slicer," He nodded his head as she idly twirled his lightsaber. "Turns out, you're also no ordinary assassin. Tell you what- Let's have introductions before we do this properly and I turn you over to SIS for questioning."

"Alright." Qa'za smiled, taking a step backwards and holstering her pistol and knife.

"Jedi Knight Vudon Fesari, undercover data-slicer for Republic interests in Hutt-Space," Vudon then gave a nod of his head, his eyes never leaving his assailant.

"Qa'za Myrien," she spoke, drawing her own lightsaber. She ignited a single blade of gold from her weapon, the light of it softly shading the skin of her neck, jaw, and lips yellow. She continued, "Just a girl interested in making the Empire a better place," Vudon laughed, his eyes locked onto hers. He drew a second blade of green from his jacket, wielding one saber in each hand.

"Should've gone into politics, Ms. Myrien. Swordplay is no place for making anything a better place," He began to circle around her. She chuckled.

"Honorable, hm? You should've hid back on Tython with your little Jedi Order. Nar Shaddaa is no place for honor," She followed in suit, mirroring his steps. The two paced in a circle, slowly. Qa'za moved a hand to tap an earpiece beneath her hood. She lifted her head, still watching her opponent with a predatory gaze.

"Rikter. This job just got a lot more complicated."

_To be continued…_


End file.
